


Through the window, and through ink

by Garboq



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hopefully we wont but we may, no beta we die like Glenn, tags added as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26521975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garboq/pseuds/Garboq
Summary: Ingrid looks through the window of her room in Fraldarius' state, longing for better days, while trying to keep sane. While taking in the scenery, she spots a Gautier messenger, carrying letters for Felix and her.Letters come and go, and so does the time they spend apart. But letters may not stop flowing from Sylvain's hands.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's a bit raw but please bear with me. I'll try to update every two weeks. With a bit of luck and a bit of skill, once a week. 
> 
> Please let me know if you like it, and please leave me comments on where and how I could improve.

Had it always been so cold in Fraldarius? Gautier was cold year-round, but Fraldarius should not be this cold until well into winter, and it was barely the mid-autumn! She peeked through the window to find that the garden and the orchard were not as devoid of leaves as she had expected, instead allowing her quite the view. Thin layers of ochre, orange and crimson covered the trees before falling softly on a bed of green grassland. Quite the contrast to her own home, ochre throughout most of the year, and nowhere near as fertile as most territories.

What stung her the most was seeing the big oak nearby. The shade of its leaves a painful reminder of times bygone, of people who were not there. Glenn was gone, and apparently, so was Dimitri. If things kept being what they were, they would follow soon enough. She could only hope it was with a blast, and together, not leaving anyone to mourn. Because dying was their only option. Felix wouldn’t bend his knee to anyone who wasn’t Dimitri, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Neither would she. They were both far too proud. As for Sylvain…

He could have gone with Edelgard. After all, her world was something he would revel in creating and enjoying. He could have been free of his crest, his responsibilities as a Gautier, and his future smiling and bearing people he didn’t like. He could finally flirt and be happy and maybe even loved by someone who wanted him for who he was and not for his crest, title or riches. She thought that while the same could be said of herself… unlike her, he didn’t want to be a knight, nor would have to marry someone to ensure her family didn’t face hardships come the future. He could have gone with Edelgard, and be free, but he didn’t. She had seen it herself –how he pondered the choice, how his eyes welled up with tears and how he had screamed and shouted. How he had chosen them, despite his wishes. Them, despite her world being his to be in. Them, despite knowing he would not walk out of the war with his life.

Felix and herself had chosen this noble suicide out of pride and dreams, out of ideals. Sylvain had chosen it out of love.

These thoughts felt overwhelming at times, and Ingrid couldn’t help but wonder what would she have done in his place. If she had his resources. If she didn’t have to answer for a whole territory through her marriage. If she craved for freedom as he did. If she didn’t care whether she served Hresvelg or Blaiddyd.

But she did, and he didn’t. He was content with being free and helping people. He craved to be seen as Sylvain José, and not as the “young Master” or “the future Magrave”. She knew he could be the best Magrave Gautier Faerghus had ever seen, and she knew he had wanted to help achieve peace with Sreng, but she knew, as well as he did, that duty came before happiness. He would always be the young master, then Lord Gautier. He would have to marry someone who was deemed politically convenient. He would have to try and produce an heir with a crest. Then, and only then, could she hope he would have found happiness in his life. If he miraculously lived, that is.

And if she did, she would suffer a fate not too dissimilar to his. She only hoped she’d be able to visit him and Felix every now and then.

She allowed herself this sliver of hope, if resignation to the lesser evil could be truly called hope. It was far from what she wanted. It was far from what she dreamed. But it was enough to keep her sane, and hopeful, that should she survive, she’d do so as a victor.

A soft knock on the door caught her by surprise. Felix stood there, his hair loose, his eyes heavy and surrounded by dark bags.

“Dinner will be served soon. Should I send it up, or will you be coming?”

“I’ll be there. Thank you, Felix. Just… I’ll be there in a moment. I wanted to take in a bit more of this sunset.”

Felix made that small, but somehow kind grunt of his, nodded, and went on his way. He missed them as much as she did, but he had a dukedom to run while his father tried to keep the kingdom from falling apart, on the slim chance that Dimitri was alive. He most definitely did not have the luxury to take in the scenery and sigh as heavily as she had right then and there.

As if to quench her nostalgia, she took one last look through the window. She could have sworn she saw a rider, galloping towards the manor’s entrance, wearing a dark armor, red hair being caressed by the wind, Lance of Ruin in hand. She had to blink and squint to be sure, and while the rider was wearing Gautier’s dark steel and colors, he was just a soldier, maybe a knight, who had been sent as a messenger. She found herself surprised at her disappointment that it wasn’t Sylvain. She knew it couldn’t have been, but still she couldn’t help but hope. And that bit was off. She should know better.

It didn’t take her long to get to the door and instruct a servant to guide the mount to the stables, while she and Lord Fraldarius listened to the messenger. Once on their own, the rider took three letters out of his bag. There was one for Lord Fraldarius, one for Felix, and one for Lady Galatea. Felix extended his hospitality, and so the rider left to his newly assigned quarters.

“So,” she said, “do we start with our letters, or the official one?”

“Official matters first.” He replied, curt, tense. More so than usual.

Sylvain wrote about movements east of Fhirdiad that made him think that not only Dimitri was alive, but also that he was wreaking havoc behind imperial lines. He said that the srengi would be more than willing to ally themselves with Edelgard in exchange for Gautier, and that his father had their best men either sabotaging whatever lines the Empire and Sreng could have, or downright getting rid of their emissaries. Wrote that he was worrying that Dominic was about to sway in favor of the Empire, which threatened Galatea much more than they would want to. He said he had advised his father to look to the Alliance for resources and troops, and hoped to find some soon, even in the form of mercenaries.

While the letter was succinct, it was enough. Nothing too compromising, should the messenger get caught, while still carrying information only they knew how to read. It wasn’t that he had advised his father to look to the Alliance for troops, Sylvain had found some. Sreng was under his and his father’s boot, and if the messenger was indeed caught it would serve as the perfect bait. Dominic had fallen, and he, somehow, had managed to get Annette out of it. As for the bit about Dimitri…

“So the boar is alive?” Ingrid had noticed the hope in Felix’s voice. “Too dumb to die, it seems.”, he said, with a soft smile on his lips.

Before either of them could open their own, private letters, a servant announced that their dinner was ready. Felix grunted, irritated he couldn’t read more of Sylvain, but ultimately decided he, as the acting lord, had to be as pleasant as he could be to the messenger, and thus, had to share dinner with him. Ingrid would have laughed but she not only understood Felix, she had felt just the same.

As far as Ingrid was concerned, this was one of the longest dinners she had sat through in her entire life. Not only did the messenger babble on about the Magrave’s heroics and Sylvain’s own deeds, but the food was surprisingly unsavory. It couldn’t have ended soon enough. She excused herself, rushed upstairs, and then locked her door. Then and only then did she break the seal bearing the crest of Gautier, and started reading.

_Hey Ingrid._

_I hope you’re alright._

_I’m sorry I won’t be able to write as long as I want to, not as long as you want to read, but I’ll make the best of what I have._

_It’s fucking freezing up here. I know you’ll scold me for my “inappropriate language”, but given how the scolding will take about a week to get here, it’s a risk I’m willing to take._

_Morale is lower than I hoped. Even rumors of Dimitri being alive are not helping. We need to do something. I just don’t know what. It feels as if no matter what I do, that bitch Cornelia is ready to one-up me. Rodrigue has been trying to infiltrate people into Arianrhod and Fhirdiad, with little success it seems. I’m worried about Annette. Hopefully she’ll get there soon, with Mercedes._

_I’d say that I wish you were here, but as much as I want to… I just wish you are safe and warm. It’s already snowing, and while it could be beautiful some other time… it’s not right now. I hope my father and I can negotiate a truce, at least, for the duration of winter._

_I miss you._

_Wish I was there_

_Sylvain._


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t just cold. It was fucking freezing. He had not been exaggerating when he told Ingrid as much. Sylvain suspected there was a bit of magic involved, but it would have been pretty damn cold nonetheless.

What was unnatural was the lack of sun. It was too early in the year to be dark so early, or rather, to barely have daylight. And therein lied his suspicions. The barren land was either too hot or too cold, and those few precious hours of sunlight they were getting were barely enough to warm the army up. He had to act. If they had to retreat, and somehow this unnatural cold got to the people of Gautier before the harvest was done, there would be famine, no doubt about it, and plenty more lives would be lost than if they stood their ground.

Still, dire as the situation may have been, he wanted to hold on to whatever sliver of hope he could find. He had talked his father into allowing him to go, in three days’ time, on a reconnaissance mission, with a couple of his best men. They would scout the area and hopefully get rid of a couple of threats. If things worked well enough, they’d burn or at least hamper the srengi supply line.

He was lost in these thoughts, trying to find the best course of action, when he was startled by a voice calling him.

“Lord Sylvain? There’s a messenger waiting for you. He’s at your father’s quarters. Says he has information from Lord Fraldarius and Lady Galatea”. Sylvain thanked him and managed half a smile. Felix. Ingrid. How much he missed them. How much he wished they were with him, or he with them, wherever, so long as they were together. He had missed them much more than he could ever admit when news of Dimitri got to him, both the execution ones and the rumors of him being alive. He wanted to be there for them. He wanted them to be there for him. All he had managed was to convince Count Galatea to send Ingrid off to Fraldarius, to protect her and Galatea both, since that way no wayward nobles looking for spoils of war would think of going into the territory. While Ingrid would have surely been offended at the thought she couldn’t protect herself, she would have understood that her family, her people and her land would be safer if she wasn’t around; and so, Ingrid was now in Fraldarius. Sylvain had to visit them. Soon. It had been a long time since they met, and with how war was going, he may very well not meet them again.

He stood up from and walked to his father’s tent. While the camp was starting to feel a bit more permanent, it was still a camp. In maybe twenty years it’d be a small fort. Maybe, if peace was not achieved, it would become a stronghold. They’d name it something along the lines of “The bastion of the north”, or, if Fort Merceus, Arianrhod, and the Locket were to be taken as examples, it would have an even more pompous name, “The crown of snow” or something along the lines. But if he could manage a peace treaty, it may very well become a town. Maybe even the frontier city.

Once he arrieved, his father had him sit down and they both listened to the debrief their messenger had prepared. Roads, he said, were as safe as they were in King’s Lambert reign. _So not much for commonfolk,_ thought Sylvain. There had been no reports of troop movements from Cornelia nor her allies. They were, seemingly, bidding their time. Trying to become such an unstoppable force should the Empire send troops to aid them, that no lord in their sane mind would oppose them. But that meant that they had time to prepare. To prevent the onslaught. His father knew this, as did Lord Rodrigue. They would be loyal to the crown, to the Kingdom. To the system.

A part of him wanted to just turn his back on all he’d known. Edelgard promised change. Promised a world where he and Ingrid could have been happy teenagers. Where Miklan wasn’t tossed aside. Where Crests were no more than mere tools, and not means to rule. Where he could be free. He had been tempted to accept the deal. He knew Ashe was, as well. Somehow, the world that Edelgard promised not only didn’t seem bad, but felt right. He wanted that world. He craved it. He knew how Mercedes had been bought as if she was merchandise, he knew at the mere mention of Crests, Lysethia would retch, and he knew that Marianne didn’t like hers much. He hated his. He could have fought for such a world. He probably should have. But four eyes were enough to convince him otherwise. Fuck Dimitri and his line, fuck his non-stop blabbering about being proper and his façade as a prince, he knew Felix well enough to know that he loved Dimitri as the prince he no longer was, and not the Boar he turned into when fighting. Fuck the Crown, fuck the Magravate, fuck Faerghus. Fuck all of the system. And fuck him, too, because he couldn’t bring himself to leave Felix and Ingrid behind.

His fathers, his lands, his title, his money, his privileges… He could leave them all behind. But he could not stand to think of not the disproval but the sadness in Ingrid’s eyes. The pain in Felix’s. So, like a madman, driven by the one emotion he claimed he did not have nor was capable of feeling, he bet all he had in a war they were losing. He bet that when it was all over, and should Dimitri, as heir apparent, or Rodrigue or Felix as next in line, ascend to the throne, they would work for a better world. One where crests didn’t bring as much suffering. One where the common folk didn’t have to bear abuse. One as good as they could, as close as Edelgard’s vision as possible.

“Lord Sylvain,” said the messenger, interrupting his thoughts, “Lady Galatea and Lord Fraldarius each sent a letter to you. They said it was nothing more than a token of friendship so all of the military related business were in the letter to your father”. He handed Sylvain the letters, marked carefully with the Fraldarius seal, and saw the penmanship of his friends.

“Go and read them, boy. Then report back to me. We have much to discuss and your mind will be wandering until you have read them”, his father ordered, and it took no convincing. Sylvain excused himself, and went to his tent.

Once there, lighting up a candle and sitting in a small desk, he started with Felix’s letter.

_Sylvain._

_Thank you. It means a lot._

_My father must still be chasing the Boar with Gilbert. No news. Ingrid had been quiet until your letter. Will you tell her, or should I do it? And if I do, are Gautier’s defenses enough for me to take refuge?_

_Any news about Mercedes? Annette will be looking for her as you would us._

_Stay safe. You made a promise and I will not rule a dukedom without you as a Magrave._

_Felix._

Felix wasn’t one for words, but Sylvain knew him well enough to let a dumb smile take over his face. He was expressing as much as he could, and was worried for him.

Now, Ingrid. He knew he’d be scolded but whenever and wherever he and Ingrid were together, or even concerned, that was standard procedure. Yet his heart was beating fast with anticipation. He felt both warm and cold, but no wind blew inside, nor was there enough fire to heat the room.

He broke the seal and opened the envelope, and, as if sparring, braced for impact.

_Sylvain._

_Language! It’s not befitting of a future Magrave! Your father may still have twenty years in him but you still need to be ready!_

_Do take precautions against the cold, please. Wouldn’t want you to be down with a cold when I’m not there to take care of you. You get quite whiny and I doubt the soldiers would like to fight for such a crybaby. Also, please, please, please, don’t chase any skirts while you’re there. You already have enough troubles as it is without the father of some poor girl trying to kill you._

_Weather here has been colder than usual. Either that or I’m more sensitive to the cold than I remembered. As lively as the manor may be, it’s lacking the life you and his highness brought. Felix and I are training in just about every spare moment. He’s busier than ever but the servants seem to like him more than they let on. He’s also as considerate as he can be. I believe he’ll make a great Duke. And those details he doesn’t care much about will be more than surely taken care of by miss Dominic, when she does arrive. When he got your letter, he smiled for a whole day! Can you believe it? And he still denies it!_

_I can only hope she feels the same. I’m sure that with Annette as duchess the Fraldarius household will be as lively as it has ever been._

_My father has put most of the proposals on halt while this war goes on. Says he doesn’t want to “hand me over” to the losing side. Even if it does cost his life, he’ll try and protect me. Some things never change, do they? My brothers are trying to form and train militias. Hopefully it won’t come to pass but should Galatea be attacked… It’s better to be safe than sorry. And if it’s time to be sorry it’s best to take as many as you can with you._

_Speaking of, don’t forget to oil your armor. I know it’s tedious but you have to take care of yourself. And please don’t stay up late. You are a commander and need to be well rested to take the decisions that will lead to fewer casualties._

_Oh, goddess, I’m rambling, aren’t I?_

_I miss you Sylvain. Please come back in one piece. Don’t you die on me._

_Ingrid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter done!
> 
> As always comments are appreciated! Starting from the next chapter we'll see a bit of encryption, and I'll try to make it so that you can decypher it as a bit of a game, and not just as a plot device.
> 
> Stay safe!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a wee bit shorter than the others, but with good reason. The reading experience should be best on pc, specially so for the letters. I will try to get better at formatting.
> 
> If you do manage to get the hidden messages this time around -which should be easy- please don't spoil them! There may be people who haven't!
> 
> Chapter 4 should be done by next wednesday or thursday.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Esteemed Margrave Gautier_

_It has come to our attention that you are still clinging to the hope that the kin-killer, Dimitri, is alive._

_Let me be clear: He is not. You would be wise to stop holding to such childish things and side with the Dukedom of Faerghus. Emperor Edelgard is a kind, merciful ruler. She will surely allow you to live your last days comfortably, if you spare her the chore of going to the frigid north and prying it from the frozen corpses of your people, that is. She may even help re-educate that mongrel you call your son. If he is lucky, she will allow him to live in her new world, as he clearly wanted._

_At her Imperial Majesty’s behest, I will invite you to Fhirdiad, the fourth day of the Guardian moon, along with your child. We shall hold a feast in which we will discuss the terms of your gradual surrender to the Empire and the Dukedom of Faerghus, so that you may live a still cushioned life and even your son may live as prince in Sreng should he so choose._

_However, if you were unwise enough to refuse this invitation, we will understand that you care not for your, nor your people’s safety, as you would be willing to go to war for a ghost, and a fool’s hope. Given how strong Gautier’s winters are, we may even understand if you are late. If you are not in Fhirdiad by the sunrise of the fifth day of the Guardian Moon, you, your people and your son shall all be declared traitors to the Dukedom, and hunted like game. Your heads shall be exhibited on Fhirdiad’s southern wall, a reminder for all those who would dare defy Her Majesty._

_Hoping you will see what is better for you and your people,_

_Cornelia_

_Duchess of Faerghus._

Sylvain could only look at the piece of paper he was trying his best to not crumple and throw with as much strength as he could muster.

Only a week had passed since the messenger he’d sent to Fraldarius had returned. He would have to leave again, tonight or by dawn’s break. Sylvain was partial to have him leave as soon as possible but that would mean risking not only the Empire Night Patrols, but the wildlife. By dawn it was, then. He had to warn them. He had to do it fast. Save lord Rodrigue from being hunted like an animal. Save Felix from losing someone else.

“So?” he heard his father asking.

“I doubt they would hurt you. Me, on the other hand… I am more a liability than I am worth. For them, at least. Having you and Lord Rodrigue still on the same side will not only give credibility to the claim that His Highness is alive, but will serve as a guarantee for some of the smaller, eastern lords. With them, I believe the Kingdom can survive.”

“What will you do, boy?”

Sylvain pondered. The question was heavy with implications. It wasn’t only a question regarding his near plans but his overall allegiance. Of his loyalty.

“I am loyal to His Highness Dimitri, and the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. My place is here, defending the people of Gautier from whatever may come.”

“Good. You would do well to remember that more often”. The scowl his father wore on the regular didn’t soften with his answer. Neither did his voice, nor did his shoulders loosen up. He was still on edge, knowing himself a target of an enemy of his caliber. He knew all the gears in his father’s head were turning trying to come up with a plan. He knew this, because his own were as well.

“We must alert Fraldarius. The shield is better loved than we are, and may muster up some more troops, even from the western traitors.”

“I will write to them, father. Felix and Lord Rodrigue will come up with something to stop the advance of the traitors. We just have to hold off a bit longer.”

His father didn’t have time to reply. His guards called him, saying a scout had returned and was in a bad shape. With a small movement of his head, the margrave signaled for Sylvain to go fetch a healer, fast, and so he did. Thanks to what he had learned in the academy, he had suggested that no company go without a healer nearby while on camp, and on the battlefield no healer had to attend to more than two or three battalions if things were dire; and thus, finding a healer was not as hard as it would have been a couple of years ago. He led the healer to his father’s tent and while the bishop worked, they listened to the scout giving his report.

“We were attacked by demonic beasts, my liege. Thee of them. We barely made it out in time. It seems his grace was right all along and there are sorcerers denying us the precious sunlight”. Where a couple of years earlier he would have smirked, Sylvain scowled. He felt a growl form in the back of his throat but managed to reign it in. His father didn’t.

“Seems you were right, boy.” Sylvain could have sworn there was a glimmer of pride in his father’s eyes, and the faintest smile on his lips. “Tomorrow. Dawn. You and 20 of your choice. Strike them down”. Sylvain nodded. “Get the letters ready. The rider leaves at the earliest. I will get most of our troops ready. You will need a distraction powerful enough to keep prying eyes from watching you”.

Either his father was about to die, or he finally had gained his recognition. Sylvain, after twenty two years, wasn’t sure which of those scared him the most.

He got to his tent, took out ink and parchment (because most paper would degrade much faster in the Srengi winter), and started writing.

_Felix_

_Your father is a legend, you know? Even the Srengi talk about him!_

C _ornelia’s doing everything she can to surprise me and then some!_

_This cold -okay, I know I whine a lot, but trust me, it’s hell- may be ending soon. Today, Cornelia suddenly and unexpectedly invited my father to Fhirdiad, this Guardian Moon. I’m not sure I’d like to go, although I was personally invited as well -I would hate to miss Ingrid’s birthday again. That is, if you do let her celebrate it doing something other than sparring!_

_On a serious note, though, I don’t think the peace talk with the Srengi will come to fruition. If I'm honest with you, I'm worried because They have been hostile in how they approach the negotiations, which leads me to believe that there is some truth in the rumors I've heard from my soldiers lately: troops from the empire may have found their way through our lines and into theirs!_

_Amazing, right? Patrolling should be taken care by better men, but my father had insisted those were enough. However, I have been informed that our night watch is still taken care of by our best eyes._

_Anyway! It is about time we chat more often; don’t you think? So close and yet so far! I know, I know, our winters are hellish and most of our roads are dangerous, but still, it wouldn’t be so hard to visit every once in a while, would it? I am your best friend, right? Or is it perhaps that you would rather be blessed with my presence? I’ll have you know that ever since we parted on the monastery, I've done my best to ensure I am now the most careful man in not pissing other people off. Even stopped the skirt chasing -not the flirting though._

_It would please me greatly if you would allow me to honor you and your home with my handsome visage, but I think I would understand you if you really don’t want me or my good looks to ruin the peace you have worked so hard to bring to your home. Whatever your wishes are, make sure to tell me._

_Say, if Ingrid is still around, please, tell her I’m okay. She’ll be worried sick, knowing me._

_Your friend,_

_Sylvain._

Having finished Felix’s letter, he furiously scrabbled a Riegan Crest and prayed Felix would remember. Not that he didn’t trust him. Felix would remember. Sylvain just needed it to be fast enough.

With a deep breath he started with Ingrid’s letter.

_Ingrid._

_I ride at dawn. By the time this letter reaches you, I hope to have improved this places weather a bit._

_Lonesome as it may be, when it’s cool, it’s a really precious landscape: S_ _tars reflect their light on the sand and dunes, and rocks seem to sail over an ocean of blue and gold_

_You would love it, should the conditions be different._

_I can’t write much more tonight. I’m okay, no colds and no angry fathers to deal with this time. You know, usually, for me, whenever I end up realizing you’re right usually means a sore arm or a sore cheek. Or both if I fucked up too badly, like I do. I’m glad it’s only me, and the desert lilies this time._

_Doing all this without you feels weird, though. I miss you. Hope you’re not getting rusty over there._

_Yours,_

_Sylvain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting will be the death of me.
> 
> I hope you liked it!
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated.
> 
> Until next time!


End file.
